


What's in a Name?

by cannedpeaches



Series: All Roads Lead Me to This Place [13]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, just a heap of sugar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/cannedpeaches
Summary: Tommy is decidedly unhelpful when it comes to picking out baby names.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peppermint_smile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermint_smile/gifts).



> Because this pairing doesn't get enough love.
> 
> For Anne-Marie, who loves these two just as much as I do.

Maria can’t really complain. Not when the settlement has been secure and raid-free for three months (although she knocks wood every time she thinks it, an old habit she picked up from her father). Not when the trees are starting to burst into leaf and the crops are beginning to sprout tiny leaves. And not with her belly beginning to round as she starts her third trimester, a pregnancy finally, finally, finally sticking -- knock wood.

No, she can’t complain with Tommy making her breakfast in bed every day: cottage cheese and eggs scrambled with as many vegetables as he can find, because any prenatal vitamins that might still exist in the world are long expired, a dandelion in a tin can in the corner of her tray. Not with Tommy fetching her work from her office so she can spread the papers out on the bedspread, not with him easing her back into bed every chance he gets, not with him drawing her hot baths and pressing his fingers into the knots in her shoulders, not with him acting as her surrogate for every meeting, every major construction job, every planting and foaling and harvest so far.

And yet, for all the good that is happening in her life, for all the happiness she had never expected to experience again since the day the world ended, for all that her husband proves himself, again and again, to be the best man she’s ever met --

She is going to kill Tommy Miller.

Maybe _kill_ is too strong a word. But honestly, she never thought picking out baby names would be harder than taking down a pack of clickers.

 

It starts one afternoon, just after lunch, as she’s dozing and Tommy is sitting next to her in bed, reading an old Tom Clancy novel he scavenged from one of the little towns just past the woods.

“Tommy?” she murmurs, blinking her eyes open to the bright light streaming into the bedroom.

He puts the book down in an instant. “Yeah? Need anythin’?”

She shakes her head a little. “What do you think about Sofia?”

He stares at her for a second. “What?”

“Sofia,” she repeats. “For the baby.”

A corner of Tommy’s mouth lifts. “What makes you think it’s a girl?”

Maria passes a hand over her growing belly. “I don’t, necessarily. But it’d be good to have a few names to choose from, don’t you think? In case one doesn’t fit?”

“Sofia,” Tommy says, his mouth screwing up as he thinks. “Don’t know, love. Pretty fancy name for such a small person.”

They leave it at that for the day, and Maria finally falls asleep.

 

But the conversation is far from over.

“We could always name it after Joel,” Tommy says one day. He’s dusting the bedroom, airing out linens, the windows thrown open to let in the spring breeze. Even as he bustles around, Maria can see a familiar, mischievous gleam in his eye.

Maria scoffs. “The last thing we need is two Joels. I’m having a baby, not a grumpy old man.”

“Okay, then we can name it after me.”

“Oh, I _definitely_ don’t need two of you.”

“How about we name it after your granddad?”

“Tommy, Eugene is no longer a suitable name for a child.” She rolls her eyes, and she thinks she can hear her husband suppressing a snort.

 

“We are _not_ naming our child JimBob!” Maria is bolt upright, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders against a late-season chill, as Tommy pours her a mug of tea.

“Aww, baby, why not?” Tommy asks, not hiding his grin as he hands her the steaming mug.

Maria groans and rubs two fingers against her temple. It’s been a week of fending off Tommy’s questionable taste in baby names.

“Leroy? Leroy’s a good southern name.”

“You know what I miss? Kolache. Hey, what if we name it Kolache?”

“We could name it Coffee, then Joel would babysit any time we wanted.”

“What if we just named it Texas? Ha, get it?”

“We can go real classic and name it Prudence.”

After a week of this, Maria has had enough.

“Thomas Miller,” she says, her voice low and slow, “I swear to god, I will end you.”

“I’m just throwin’ out ideas!” Tommy says. “Wait, wait, wait. I got it. What about Buck?”

The rage is Maria’s chest is coiled so tight that it finally springs. “Buck?! BUCK?!”

“Well Christ, Maria, if we're gonna name our baby after the dog, we can't call ’em the same -- fuck, OW, stop it!"

At this point, Maria is pummeling him with pillows, the mug of tea forgotten on the bedside table.

“Okay!” Tommy says, grabbing one of the down-filled weapons. "C’mon, see, this is why I want you to get some rest, you just overexert yourself and --"

" _Tommy, I will straight-up murder you._ " She glares at him so hard she thinks she might laser a hole through his forehead.

He puts up his hands in defense, palms spread wide. "I'm just lookin' out for you!"

"I will _exile_ you, so help me," she growls.

"You can't exile me, who's gonna help you change the diapers?" He presses his lips together, holding about another laugh, no doubt.

Maria huffs. “I can change diapers just fine by myself, thank you very much."

"Okay, fine, but who's gonna do that thing you li --"

“ _Tommy!_ ” Maria feels her face heat.

"What? The baby can't hear in there."

She covers her face with her hands and exhales loudly. "I can't deal with this." 

"I'm just sayin', if the baby doesn't mind all that rollin' around we've been doin' --" 

Maria makes a high-pitched noise, and Tommy just pats her on the shoulder and leaves it at that for afternoon.

 

Just before bed that evening, as he settles into bed, Tommy says, “Hey, Maria?”

Maria puts down her monthly calendar with a snap of papers and glares at him. “Tommy, so fuckin’ help me, if you mention one more half-assed baby name, I will have your balls.”

With a completely straight face, Tommy only says, “So you’re done havin’ kids after this?”

Maria’s eye hasn’t twitched this badly in _years_.

“Tommy, I swear on everything that is holy --”

"All I wanted to say is, Sofia's a nice name for a girl."

Maria gapes at him, her work for the night just completely forgotten on her lap. "What did you just say." 

"Sofia's fine." His mouth quivers behind his stubble, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“ _Fine?_

"Yeah." He shrugs

"What happened to it being too fucking fancy for you?!”

"Changed my mind." He’s barely suppressing his laughter now.

Maria opens her mouth to let loose a string of swears, but before she can, Tommy puts a hand over her lips, kisses her on the cheek, and puts a hand over her belly. The baby kicks him forcefully.

“Sofia wants you to leave me the hell alone,” Maria mutters against his palm.

“Hmm,” Tommy hums, taking his hand away and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her belly. “Okay. I’m sorry, Sofia.”

Maria feels the baby settle inside her. “We still don’t know if it’s a girl,” she points out.

“I’ve got a good feelin’ about it,” he says.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, scooting to the end of the bed and taking one of her feet in his large, warm hands. “Because if I have to think of any boys’ names, I think Sofia’s gonna be without a daddy.”

“Hmph,” Maria says as he presses his fingers into the arch of her foot. “You drive me crazy.”

“But you love me,” he says, giving her a roguish half-grin.

She shakes her head. “I do. God help us all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Anne-Marie for letting me steal the two bits of dialogue about naming the baby after Buckley, and the bit where Maria beats Tommy with a pillow. :)


End file.
